


burn everything you love (then burn the ashes)

by trustingno1



Category: Homeland
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trustingno1/pseuds/trustingno1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Carrie," he breathes, reaching for her (and it was only a day ago that they hugged just like this, her hair tickling his nose, and he's still wearing the same goddamn <i>tie</i>, but it feels like a lifetime ago), "Carrie, where the fuck have you <i>been?</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	burn everything you love (then burn the ashes)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through 2x12.

"Carrie," he breathes, reaching for her (and it was only a day ago that they hugged just like this, her hair tickling his nose, and he's still wearing the same goddamn _tie_ , but it feels like a lifetime ago), "Carrie, where the fuck have you _been_?" and she shakes her head slightly, against his chest, but doesn't pull back just yet and there's a pit, a fucking _pit_ , in his stomach, because if she's not answering, he shouldn't be _asking_ , and he doesn't know which one of them he's protecting when he drops it

(but it's probably her.

It's always her).

"Are you OK?" he asks instead, touching her cheek, and she nods (and if her face crumples, teeters on the verge of collapsing in on itself for the briefest of moments, neither of them are going to acknowledge it).

"I'm fine," she says, and her voice is thick with tiredness, or emotion

(or lies).

"Brody?" he asks, mouth barely moving (wonders if she knows what he's asking, because he's not sure he does).

"He didn't do it, Saul," she says, low and _sure_ , finally pulling away, "It was _Nazir_ ," and there are _so_ many things he wants to ask, to say (because he doesn't know how this fits, doesn't know if it's green or purple, revenge or aggression, doesn't know whose timeline it belongs to - Nazir's or Brody's, and maybe they overlap more than anyone ever thought - doesn't know if any of it even _matters_ now (knows, though, that it'll always matter to Carrie)) but -

"OK," he finally settles on. "OK." (Because the alternative - that they were wrong about him; that _she_ was wrong about him - that two hundred people are _dead_ because he believed her, and she believed Nicholas Brody - is too much to think about right now.

(Later though, under questioning - on the record and off - he'll be asked about it, asked about who knew what and when, asked whether they could've stopped it, asked if anyone could've seen it coming, and he'll answer, speaking slow and deliberate, like he has - _since_ , dancing around the truth in way that would've made even Estes proud)).

"Maggie," he remembers, "Have you-" and the guilt on her face is enough of an answer (right now, he's too relieved to be angry; he reaches out and grips her forearm, makes sure she's real, she's still there, and _I had to tell your sister that you were probably dead_ is one more thing he'll never say to her). "Call your sister, Carrie," he says, squeezing her arm, and her lips twist into something that's probably a smile, "Call your sister," he repeats, "Hug your dad," ( _for everyone here who can't_ , he doesn't say).

She jerks her head in a nod, like she'll take his advice (and it's a reflection of the twenty-four hours they've lived through that she doesn't argue, and a Carrie not arguing is something he's not used to).

She steps into him again and kisses his cheek (affirmation and apology all in one). "The cell," she says, as she pulls back, eyes widening just a little, enough to worry him, enough to make him - _remember_. "It's bigger than we thought."

He nods slightly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow," he says, gently (not now, not yet; not until they've recovered all the bodies).

"Tomorrow," she agrees, straightening her back, and it's part promise, part reassurance, and this is a Carrie he _remembers_ , a Carrie untouched by Nick Brody and self-doubt, a Carrie he hasn't truly seen since before Baghdad.

(She squeezes his hand as she leaves, and, for just a moment, he can almost breathe again).

 

**end**


End file.
